


Would It Be Enough If I Could Never Give You Peace?

by alecmagnuslwb



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alecmagnuslwb/pseuds/alecmagnuslwb
Summary: Constantine doesn’t dream, he has nightmares.
Relationships: John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Would It Be Enough If I Could Never Give You Peace?

**Author's Note:**

> Writer’s month day 27, prompt: Dream
> 
> Title taken from Peace by Taylor Swift which kind of inspired the whole thing and is now a new unexpected feature on my JohnZee playlist. Which is public, so if anyone is interested in giving it a listen it's [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/54jxDbFMEXvGvhfFD4Sb2t?si=H8A6BOJRQ1SE4LObFjWfRg) .

John Constantine doesn’t dream. Not really and definitely not since he was a child.

If he’s lucky his sleep is filled with simple, blissful nothingness. Just darkness plain and soothing for however many minutes or hours he can manage to get.

If he’s unlucky, which he often is, he has nightmares. Some nights it’s the blazing twisted memories of his father, bitter and resentful that John survived and his mother didn’t. Some nights it’s the horrors he’s already just barely survived replaying over and over again. Other nights, some of the worst nights it’s the heart crushing fears that live inside him, watching Zatanna die in his arms disappointment in her eyes the blame of it all on him, Boston trapped on the River Styx tortured for eternity with John on the other side nothing he can do to save his friend.

But most nights it’s visions of what inevitably awaits him one day when his time comes. A macabre mixture of every nightmare he’s accustomed to with the burn of hellfire, the burrowing scratch of hell beasts’ claws and the whispers of the devil and demons in his ears added on.

Tonight is unfortunately one of those nights.

John wakes up in a sweat his back ramrod straight and his hands grasping the sheets so hard they’re nearly tearing. Tonight’s particular brand of hell had started off with the normal fire and brimstone he sees often enough, the added fuckery of a black-eyed bastard wearing Zee’s face and telling him all the things he’s done to ruin her was new. A brand of nightmare he sure as hell never asked for. 

He looks over to his left and sees Zee lying there still sleeping peacefully face down her back exposed in the moonlight and her face turned his way.

He still hears the echo of the demon using her voice rolling through his head, but the sight of her whole and human eases his hands from the sheets and lessens the tension in his back slightly. He moves his hands to run through his hair damp with sweat before slipping quietly from the bed. He bends over grabbing the pants he hastily discarded earlier from the floor slipping them on and checking the pocket to ensure his cigarettes and lighter are still there.

He casts one last look at Zee making sure he hasn’t woken her before slipping out onto the balcony. The night air is just on the right side of warm, a cool breeze blowing across him. He leans forward on the wall and lights a cigarette taking a long drag.

“All that good, all that light and your darkness stamped it out, dirtied it with your damnation, no matter how much you love me the hell you brought into my life never made it worth it,” the demon wearing Zatanna had said in his dreams as it dug it’s nails into his chest, into his heart literally and metaphorically.

He hates how much he believes it. Hates himself enough to believe it.

He’s never thought he was good enough for her, with the amount of times he’s felt like he failed her he probably never will. He constantly feels like he’s wasting her honor, her heart by being the person who gets to hold it like no one else does. He loves her more than anything else in the world, he’d kill for her, die for her, but none of that seems like enough with the baggage he lays at her feet.

She’ll never know rest, never know real true peace as long as she loves him, not than he can stop her from doing so most people don’t realize she’s twice as stubborn as he is when it comes down to what matters most to her.

His damnation, his darkness will always creep into her light and bring her trouble.

Yet, she chooses him. She chooses to stay and to take him back time and again. He can’t help but worry that one day she’ll look back at it all with regret, a life wasted, a love sullied.

He feels the sting of a burn at his fingertips and looks down to realize he’s let his cigarette burn down to the end while looking out into the blank night sky, lost in spiraling thoughts and nightmares still edging at his mind.

He flicks the butt of it over the wall and watches as the flickering ember dies out and it drifts down to the empty concrete below. He reaches over to where he’s sat the pack and lighter on the wall and pulls another cigarette out intent on actually smoking this one.

He focuses on nothing, trying to shake the nightmare from his bones and silence the echo of the voice that wasn’t actually Zatanna from his mind.

He tries to let logic rule out over his own shitty self-image and doubts.

For all the things she’s said to him over the years, even the words born from anger, she’s never said anything close to what the demon in his dreams spouted. She’s her own woman and not even John’s darkness could take away her light. She’d never call him not worth it either, no matter if he thinks it true, to her anyone she loves is worth everything. It’s all a part of the light she is, the light she holds that can’t be stamped out.

He takes another long drag standing up to his full height moving his neck side to side to release some more of the tension running along his back and then feels two arms wrap around his waist, a forehead rest between his shoulder blades.

“Nightmare?” Zatanna says voice low like she’s trying not to wake the city below. He nods reaching his free arm back to loosely embrace her. The tension bleeds out of him at her touch, whether it’s magic or just her gentleness he’s not sure but he figures it’s always a bit of both with her.

There’s no point in lying to her, she knows he doesn’t dream; what the nightmare was about he won’t say and luckily she won’t push him to, she never does, always allowing him to come to her in his own time if he needs to. She doesn’t need to hear about a twisted demonic version of her berating and torturing him.

“Hm?” she says taking his arm and slipping around to settle herself between the front of his body and the wall he was leaning on. He realizes then she hadn’t seen or felt his nod.

He moves his arm holding the cigarette from where it was braced against the wall careful not to catch on her skin or the silky robe she’s put on. He takes another drag blowing the smoke out to the side away from her face before he answers her.

“Yeah,” he says pressing closer to her resting his free hand on her waist.

“Want to talk about it?” she asks and he shakes his head. “Okay,” she says quietly one hand caressing his neck softly the other resting over his heart.

They stay that way for a while, quiet in each other’s embrace. Slowly he finally settles down from the nightmare completely, Zee’s touch and soft comfort grounding him back in reality instead of the hell that he sees when he closes his eyes.

“Is how much I love you enough in return for all the shit you have to put up with from me?” he asks suddenly words he really didn’t allow himself to say out loud coming out anyways. Zatanna is quiet her eyes meeting his in concern and deep consideration. She reaches up and takes the cigarette from between his lips taking a drag for herself before stamping it out and flicking it over the wall.

He knows whatever she’s about to say must be important if she took a smoke to give herself a minute to say it right. She tolerates his nasty habit at best and only rarely in times of great stress or heavy consideration actually partakes in it.

She holds the sides of his neck firmly ensuring his eyes stay on hers.

“Whatever you give me will always be enough as long as you give it willingly. All the rest, all the trouble, as long as I can help you fight it and you do the same for me when I’ve got my own that’s just noise baby,” she says her words earnest and firm.

Goddamn he’ll never understand how a woman as incredible as her loves him.

“Okay,” he says fully leaning into her his arms wrapping around her waist and resting his head in the crook of her neck. She embraces him back her hand rubbing slow smooth circles into his back. Maybe one day he’ll actually have enough self-worth to completely believe what she’s saying, for now though meeting her halfway will have to do.

She holds him for a long time until the cool breeze gets a little too chilly and she pulls him inside and back to bed. She wraps him up in her arms once they’re both settled under the covers and when he slowly falls back asleep to the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his back he still doesn’t dream, but it’s the peaceful kind of sleep he so rarely gets, the kind that only her presence can really bring about these days.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [alecmagnuslwb](https://alecmagnuslwb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
